


I should be happy, not tipping the scales

by laurakatherine



Series: Road Trip [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hallucinations, M/M, Portland, Road Trip, Seattle, nervous breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurakatherine/pseuds/laurakatherine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Isaac hit Portland on their road trip, only to have their blissful city break interrupted by a mistaken Kali-sighting. Isaac's fragile mental state leads to Stiles bundling him out of town and forcing him to understand how Stiles really feels about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I should be happy, not tipping the scales

Over the next week, the boys drove their way through Northern California and up into Oregon, stopping in little towns, at roadside attractions, parks, museums, and anything else that caught their interest on the way. Stiles would always drive. Isaac offered a few times, but Stiles refused vehemently, insisting that it was his Jeep, his rules. He did make concessions when it came to the music though. Once Stiles and Isaac had gotten comfortable together, Isaac had started picking the music more often, favouring indie rock bands. While they were driving, Isaac took pictures of anything and everything around him; he took pictures of sunsets, of broken down cars on the side of the road, of Stiles' hands gripping the steering wheel, of Stiles himself plastering a mock frown on his face. They slept in crappy motels, in which they kissed and let their hands roam and slept and in which Stiles comforted Isaac when he was immersed in his nightmares.  
For Isaac, who was more than content to dawdle along in every town that cropped up along their way, taking pictures of him and Stiles together, this was the perfect arrangement. Stiles, however, had a particular goal in mind; Portland. When they finally reached the city, Stiles was elated. They were out of state, so far away from Beacon Hills that they could become a whole new Stiles and Isaac.   
"Okay, so first stop on the 'Stiles and Isaac tour of Portland' is the infamous Voodoo Donuts." Stiles exclaimed, leading Isaac to the back of the mercifully short queue by the hand.  
"I don't get what's so exciting about a bunch of donuts. They're the same everywhere." Isaac replied, his fingers knotted loosely with Stiles'.  
Stiles turned around to face Isaac, his expression one of horror. "What did you just say?"   
"I… what?… they're donuts." Isaac shrugged, Stiles' expression making him want to pull the scarf that was shielding him from Portland's rainy weather up over his face to protect him from the glare.  
"They are GLORIOUS. They have a donut that's got a maple glaze and a piece of bacon on it." Isaac smiled encouragingly. "BACON, Isaac! If you're not excited about that, then I don't know what to tell you." Stiles shrugged sassily, and turned back around to face the queue that they were nearly at the front of.  
Isaac surreptitiously dropped a kiss onto the back of Stiles' neck. "Okay then. I'm excited. I'm very, very excited for the donuts."  
Stiles smiled smugly. "That's better."  
They left Voodoo with two dozen donuts, the absolute minimum amount that Stiles would let them leave the establishment with. Isaac ran across the street to put the boxes in the trunk of the Jeep, bringing two Maple Bacons back for them to eat as they explored the city. As they walked past Jeld-Wen Field, got on the MAX, went downtown, went to buy books at Powell's, grabbed a bus and went to Alphabet City to get pizza at Escape From New York, their fingers brushed, their legs pressed together, they shot smiling glances at each other, and they took pictures. They always, always took pictures. Isaac's favourite was one of Stiles at Escape From New York, wolfing down a slice of pepperoni pizza. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised in surprise. It was so damn Stiles, so him, so candid it killed Isaac. Stiles' favourite was one they'd asked someone on the street to snap of the two of them standing under the Jeld-Wen Field sign. Isaac's arm was looped around Stiles' shoulder, Stiles' arm around Isaac's waist. Isaac had a lopsided smile on his face, and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. It captured the two of them in a moment of happiness, actual contentment, and that was something that Stiles wanted to hold onto after everything that had happened back in Beacon Hills over the last six months.

If there was one thing that was bothering Stiles, even in Portland, it was the fact that he finally had someone insanely hot to make out with, and he was still a virgin. He was virginal. He was a virgin dating the hottest werewolf walking the planet, and so he decided to take action; except every time he did, something in him told him to shut it down, and quickly.   
The boys were sitting outside a food cart downtown picking at tacos one afternoon, when Stiles decided it'd be a good idea to throw a piece of chicken at Isaac. Isaac dodged the chicken and laughed lightly.   
"Fuck you." he chuckled, poking Stiles in the side.  
"If you want." Stiles mumbled, raising his eyebrows and taking a bite out of his taco.  
Isaac looked at Stiles intently. "What was that?" he asked, mouth open just a little.   
"I… nothing. It wasn't anything." Stiles chuckled, stuffing the rest of the taco into his mouth. "I didn't say a word."  
"Stiles, were you serious, or were you just being flippant?" Isaac asked impatiently.  
"I don't know, okay?" Stiles turned towards him. "I want to. I do, I really want to, but then something's stopping me, I guess." he shrugged.   
Isaac took one of Stiles' hands in his. "We haven't been us for that long, you know? Besides, neither of us have done… that before. It's okay to be frustrated, just don't rush it, okay?" he lent forward and kissed Stiles on the cheek. "Besides, it's not like all the stuff we've been doing has sucked, right?" he whispered, his mouth planting a kiss just below his ear.  
Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Well, some of it has." Isaac hit his arm playfully. "Ouch! The sucking has been great though!" Stiles laughed, and then broke off thoughtfully. "You look like you're deep in thought." he nudged Isaac's leg with his knee, stealing a piece of chicken from his styrofoam container.  
"I guess I was just thinking that we have to go back at some point." Stiles nodded in agreement. "I mean, maybe not for a while, but we do have to go home. So what then?" Isaac asked, his lovely eyes cast downwards.  
"What do you mean… like with us?" Stiles asked, concerned. He tried to catch Isaac's eye, but he wouldn't look right at him. Isaac nodded bashfully. "Well I was kinda thinking we'd go home, and I could officially introduce you to my Dad, and then I could take you on a date. I'm thinking a movie. Lots of opportunities to make out in the back row of a movie theatre." Stiles replied, smiling, flashing his dimples.  
"Really?" Isaac asked, looking up at him, his face filled with hope.  
"Yeah, really." Stiles laughed. "You really don't get how much I like you, do you? Or how hot you are." Isaac snorted derisively. "No, seriously, you are world-class levels of hot. You're the hottest." Stiles picked up Isaac's camera, which had been sitting in between them and snapped a photo of him quickly, while the blush was still creeping up his cheeks. "Adorable." Stiles laughed, showing Isaac the picture, which only made him blush even harder.  
"Stop." he mumbled, grinning, handing Stiles back the camera. His expression changed from bashful to murderous in a second. Isaac's eyes started glowing yellow, and his nose flared as he tried to smell something on the air.   
"Isaac? Isaac, what is it?" Stiles scooted closer to him, putting his hand on his leg, trying to distract him from whatever it was that had changed his mood so abruptly.   
"I saw her. Kali, I saw her." Isaac growled. "I'm gonna kill her." he said, making to stand up. Stiles put a hand on his chest to try and stop him, but Isaac shrugged him off and bolted across the road.  
"ISAAC!" Stiles yelled across the road. "IT'S NOT HER! COME BACK, ISAAC! Aaaahh, crap." Stiles sighed, getting up, shoving Isaac's camera in his bag, and running across the road after him.

Stiles followed Isaac down an alley, and turned a corner to see Isaac holding a young, dark skinned girl by the throat against the brick wall. She did look a little like a younger version of Kali. It was easy to see a slight resemblance, but past that, it was obvious that this girl was not Kali. Isaac snarled, his eyes yellow.  
"Why'd you follow us here? WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH HIM?" Isaac yelled at the girl, who was whimpering in terror.  
"Isaac…" Stiles approached him slowly, carefully. "Isaac, it's not her. It's not Kali. Put her down, okay? Just put her down, let her go. Everything will be okay." he stood a couple of feet from Isaac, reaching out to him.  
"It's her. She's trying to hurt you. Trying to take you away from me." Isaac told him, keeping his eyes locked on the girl's.  
"Babe, I promise, no one's trying to hurt me." he took a step closer to Isaac, touching his arm with his fingertips. "Please, just put her down, okay? For me?"  
"What if she tries to hurt us?" Isaac asked, his voice breaking.  
"Look at her." Stiles instructed him forcefully. "Look at her, Isaac. It's not Kali. Just look. If she were Kali, wouldn't she be fighting back?" He implored desperately.  
Stiles could see Isaac's resolve waver. His jaw quavered, and his hand unclenched. The girl crumpled to the floor, and Stiles ran to her, standing her up. "Run." Stiles said. "Run, get in a cab, go home, and don't tell anyone, okay?" The girl nodded and ran as fast as she could on her shaky legs, sobbing as she went. All Stiles could do was pray that she didn't say anything about what had happened; but then again, if she did, who would believe her? Yellow eyes and fangs? It didn't exactly sound sane.   
Isaac turned to Stiles, uncertainty and shame written all over his face. Stiles went to him, taking Isaac in his arms. Suddenly, he seemed so small, so vulnerable, so unlike the werewolf that had attacked a girl not moments earlier, that Stiles' heart broke for him.   
"Are you going to leave me?" Isaac asked, his voice level and steady, as if he was ready for Stiles to say yes.  
"What? No. I'm not going anywhere. We're getting out of here, though." Stiles replied, pulling Isaac closer to him.  
"You don't hate me? Because I need you, Stiles. I need you." Isaac told him desperately.  
"I don't hate you. I don't know what the hell's going on in your head, but that just means we've got to figure it out, okay? Now let's go. We're going to a different city. We're going to Seattle." 

The boys didn't see a lot of Seattle, however they did see a lot of the inside of their motel room. Stiles made the occasional run to the store to buy Pop-Tarts and Oreos for himself, and carrot sticks and yoghurt for Isaac, but other than that, he was determined to keep Isaac to himself, to make sure he was better before setting him loose on the world.   
The evening that they arrived in Seattle was filled with desperate kisses and roving hands. Isaac's deteriorating mental state led him to seek comfort in Stiles, his aggression and paranoia turning immediately into a need for affection that Stiles was only too happy to fulfil. Their lips clashed together as soon as the door closed in a way that they never had before, in a way that felt like the physical manifestation of a need for each other. Isaac's tongue licked at the inside of Stiles' mouth as he pushed him down onto the double bed. He pulled away from Stiles and looked down at him hungrily.  
"I want you." Isaac growled. Stiles laughed nervously, biting his bottom lip. "I want to mark you."  
"What… uh what do you mean?" Stiles stammered.  
"I want to touch you everywhere." Isaac mumbled, shoving his face into Stiles' neck and kissing at him, licking underneath his jawline, marking him there.  
Stiles shuddered under Isaac's touch, his long fingers skittering over Stiles' abdomen, pulling at the top of his jeans. "I… I… oh god, Isaac, you gotta stop." Stiles breathed out, his voice ragged.  
"Why?" Isaac asked, his voice dark, his eyes bright, and his lips swollen.  
"Because…" Stiles breathed heavily. "You just tried to kill a girl on the street. Maybe that's something that should be talked about."  
"Maybe we should do anything but talk." Isaac suggested, smirking. Stiles sighed and pushed his fingers into the spaces just underneath Isaac's hipbones, which were hollowed out as Isaac hovered above him. Stiles looked up at him, raising his eyebrows, biting his lip. "Fine." Isaac sighed, rolling off him, and onto his back. "What's on your mind?" he asked.  
"That maybe… maybe you're not okay right now." Stiles suggested apprehensively, pushing himself up so that he was sitting upright, looking down at Isaac.   
"What are you saying?" Isaac asked. Whenever Isaac got defensive, the cocky smirk on his face became yet more pronounced, and the warmth in his eyes froze over, staring Stiles down, making him feel as if every word, every touch, every nightmare-wrought night had been erased.  
"I'm saying that I'm worried about you." Stiles told him calmly.  
"Really?" Isaac sat up along with Stiles, his eyes flashing in anger now, rather than in affection. Because to me it sounds like you're saying you don't want me. I'm a loose cannon, right? A liability. Not good enough." Isaac spat.  
"Are you freaking joking me?" Stiles asked, baffled. He was, as he had been over most of the last few weeks, confused at Isaac's inability to see himself clearly, to understand how Stiles felt about him. "I've cared about you for longer than I can even remember. I only realised it when we were sitting in that car, listening to that crappy excuse for a band, but the second I did realise it, I've never wanted to look back. You have to stop doing this. I get that you have a hard time trusting people. It's a freaking miracle you're even functioning, after everything that's happened to you, but you have to trust me. I care about you, okay? I care so much that it physically hurts when you say you don't believe it. I love the way you smile when a song you like comes on the radio, I love the way you look when you wake up in the morning, I love the way you do that cocky thing where you raise one of your eyebrows and purse your lips that makes me want to kiss the smug-ass smile off your face, and I think I might love you. I think I've loved you for a while. So will you shut up and just freaking believe it already?" Stiles ranted, becoming angrier with every word. By the time he was finished, his face was flushed, his eyes alight with an unbelievable desire to make Isaac believe that Stiles would not leave him, not for anything in the world.  
Isaac on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of tears. His head was slightly bowed, his cheeks hollowed out a little as he pursed his lips to try and stop himself from crying. There were spots of colour dotting his cheeks, and his eyebrows were furrowed. He was wearing simply the most heartbreaking expression Stiles had ever seen. He nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Portland." he whispered.  
"Hey, hey, hey." Stiles reassured him, scooting a little closer and taking his hand, knitting their fingers together. "It was a mistake. Your head's a little messy right now, is all. We can fix it."  
"What, you mean by calling Derek and going home?" Isaac asked, looking up at Stiles, still trying to hold tears at bay.   
"No, babe, no. I don't think this is anything werewolf-ey. I think this is about you." Stiles told him, squeezing his hand gently. Isaac looked at him searchingly, questioningly. "Think about it. You went through all that stuff with your Dad, then all the werewolf stuff, then there was Erica and Boyd dying, then there was the battle with the Alphas. Maybe you just need a little help, you know?"  
"You mean… you mean like therapy?" Isaac asked. Stiles nodded, worried that it would offend Isaac, that he would get mad at Stiles for suggesting that Isaac needed professional help. His worries were unfounded, as Isaac simply nodded acceptingly, and leaned forward to kiss Stiles on the forehead. "Okay." he whispered, and collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes closing as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
As Isaac slept, Stiles had to fight back the disappointment that he hadn't told him that he loved him too. Then again, Stiles realised that he was expecting too much too soon, that it was a wonder that Isaac could even care about him, let alone love him. He forced himself to become okay with the fact that he got to love a beautiful boy who needed him, and who he needed in return; someone who might, one day, tell Stiles he loved him too.


End file.
